


as stone

by nightbloomings



Series: prompts [6]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Confrontation, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-01
Updated: 2013-03-01
Packaged: 2017-12-03 23:18:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/703787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightbloomings/pseuds/nightbloomings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Mother Petrice.”</p><p>Petrice looked up from the book she read at the sound of Sebastian’s voice, a scowl visible on her thin lips the moment her eyes fell on him.</p><p>Sebastian moved further into the office and stood a short distance in front the large, dark wood desk in front of Petrice, crossing his arms behind his back. “If I might have a word?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	as stone

“Mother Petrice.”

Petrice looked up from the book she read at the sound of Sebastian’s voice, a scowl visible on her thin lips the moment her eyes fell on him.

Sebastian moved further into the office and stood a short distance in front the large, dark wood desk in front of Petrice, crossing his arms behind his back. “If I might have a word?”

Petrice arched a fine eyebrow and looked down as she closed her book. The scowl she wore turned into a small, crooked smile appearing at the corner of her mouth. “Of course, Brother Sebastian,” she said, raising her eyes again to meet his. “Though I do have to wonder how the Maker would receive the continued use of such a title in regards to yourself, given your apparent… priorities, of late.”

Sebastian brought a fist forward to his lips and cleared his throat, not shrinking in the Mother’s gold grey stare. Her tactic was nothing unlike any he’d seen wielded by the shrewd nobility of Kirkwall in his time in the city.

“Right,” Petrice said, after Sebastian didn’t speak. “I have a few moments, Sebastian, please sit.” She lifted her chin slightly in the direction of one of the chairs in front of her desk.

Sebastian shook his head and offered Petrice a tight smile. “Thank you, Mother, but I won’t be more than a moment.”

Petrice breathed in sharply through her nose and gave a sharp, curt nod. “As you wish.”

“Have you been to Darktown recently, Mother?”

Petrice shook her head. “I’m afraid I have not. My duties here at the Chantry do tend to keep –”

Sebastian cleared his throat again, to prematurely punctuate Petrice's thought. “But surely you’ve heard of the recent unrest caused by a former templar the night before last? Several qunari were found dead shortly after what I’m told was a very… spirited rally.”

“I had heard of the qunari. Very unfortunate, were their deaths unprovoked. Though, as I’m sure you’ll agree, careful dialogue is not known to be a trait common amongst the race.”

“But what of the templar? Sure he would have informed you of what exactly happened during the rally?”

“I’ve not spoken to Ser Varnell in nearly a fortnight.”

Sebastian bit back the smirk that twitched at the corner of his mouth as he watched the realisation wash over Petrice’s face. “Yes. I’d heard as well that Varnell was the templar responsible for the incitement.”

Petrice narrowed her eyes at Sebastian and then looked down before she rose from her chair, resting her fingertips on the top of the desk as if to brace herself. “I do have an appointment with the Grand Cleric in a few minutes, Sebastian, if we might –”

Sebastian closed the distance between him and the edge of the desk with a few broad steps. He leaned forward and placed both palms onto the wood, and the slight loss of height brought his eyes level with Petrice's. She drew her hands away from the desk and crossed them in front of her stomach.

“The Grand Cleric may not yet know of your duplicitous role in this, but I can assure you that she soon will, and the revelation will not come from my mouth, or from Serah Hawke’s.”

“Sebastian, I can assure you that I have had no involvement whatsoever in this debacle, and anything you may have heard to the contrary from Serah Hawke should not be given any weight of truth.”

“Petrice,” he barked. “Do not deign to assume that I’ve any reason to trust you, or that I’ve not brought this directly to Her Grace out of any uncertainty as to whether you’ve orchestrated this since it began.”

Sebastian watched Petrice closely as she swallowed visibly. She hesitated a moment too long to speak, and he knew that there’d be less fight from her now.

“You say that you’re unsure whether the title of ‘Brother’ ought to still be conferred to me given my recent… ‘priorities,’ I believe you said? If that can be said of me, then I’m rather sure the same could be said of you, Petrice, for at least I do not have the blood of innocents on my hands.”

“The qunari are interlopers in this city!” she said, her voice loud. “It is the Maker’s will to see these heretics expelled from Kirkwall.”

“The Maker’s will,” Sebastian shouted, leaning further towards Petrice, “is not to see the seal of a Grand Cleric used to authorise the kidnap and murder of bound, defenseless qunari!”

Petrice scoffed and moved out from behind the desk, towards the open door of the office. “Forgive me, Sebastian, but I’m rather sure you’re not one qualified to lecture me on what constitutes will of the Maker.”

Sebastian pushed off and away from the desk and stepped to the side to cut off Petrice; she stopped a few paces away from him.

“Petrice, I suggest you take some time to reconsider the path down which your faith has led you. The qunari won’t be cowed to your will, or to that of the Maker, no matter how you deceive in an attempt to make it so.”

Petrice held Sebastian’s eyes for a moment, until he moved to her right and she swept past him quickly. She stopped in the doorway and turned to face him.

“And neither I nor the Maker shall be cowed by the heretical actions of trespassers in Kirkwall, or the rest of the Free Marches. They are a plague on our city and the Maker would see them gone before any of his children fall to their heavy hand. That, Sebastian, is the only path down which my faith has led me.”

Sebastian looked through the doorway after Petrice and let out a deep breath as he left after her, turning to the left towards the main doors of the Chantry.

“Well?” Hawke said, as Sebastian emerged outside. “Is the snake slithering back to her hole?”

Sebastian shook his head and gestured towards the stairs leading to Hightown. “Petrice’s conviction is as set in stone as are the foundations of the Chantry, Hawke. The Maker will look down upon this, surely, but I doubt even He can stop what she’s put in motion here.”


End file.
